Code Geass: Nunnally of Britannia
by Keith Fraser
Summary: AU. "Arise, Nunnally Waldstein, Knight of Seven."  Cast out of the Imperial Family after the murder of her mother and brother, Nunnally is adopted by the Knight of One and forges a new path for herself...
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **__Code Geass is the property of Sunrise, Bandai et al. No money is being made from this fanfic and it will be removed if the above parties so request. All your base are belong to us._

**Code Geass: Nunnally of Britannia**

**Chapter 1**

_**22nd November 2009 a.t.b.**_

"Announcing Princess Nunnally vi Britannia, 87th in line to the Imperial throne!"

Courtiers stared and murmured as the little girl in her black and mauve mourning dress stepped through the great doors of the Imperial audience hall and walked doggedly up the long aisle, looking neither left nor right. It took her several minutes to pass the last of the assembled nobles and curtsy before Emperor Charles, who had sat with an expression of boredom throughout and only now deigned to acknowledge her presence.

"What is the meaning of this? I have no time to babysit a child; send in the next petitioner."

"Please, your Majesty!" the princess piped up, her high voice very small in the vast hall. "This is very important!"

"Very well. Speak, but be quick."

"Y-your Majesty, my mother and brother are dead, and nothing is being done to find or catch whoever killed them. No-one is even trying to find out what happened."

"Old news. What of it?"

Nunnally faltered at the Emperor's tone and the scattered tittering it provoked from some of the assembled nobles, but pressed on. "This cannot be right! I humbly beg you to in...intervene."

Charles' expression grew even more thunderous. "You presume to criticize my handling of this incident?"

"No!" she said quickly, flinching back. "I only thought you didn't know..."

"I am aware of everything that goes on in Pendragon. Nothing in this case warrants my intervention. The murders were committed by previously unknown anti-government terrorists who failed to strike more than a token blow."

"F-father... Didn't you care about Mother and Lelouch at all? Don't you care what happened to them?" Nunnally could barely believe what she was hearing, and felt tears pricking at her eyes in spite of her determination to be calm and grown-up.

"I have many matters requiring my attention. The fate of a minor consort and prince is of little importance. If you are too weak and sentimental to accept that, Nunnally, then you do not deserve to bear my name and lineage."

Too shocked to speak, Nunnally simply stared, then began to cry. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop it, but it was no good; her expression crumpled as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

"Pathetic," the Emperor grunted. "So be it. I strip you of your royal title and expel you from the Imperial Family. Henceforth Princess Nunnally vi Britannia no longer exists."

Nunnally's legs failed her and she sank insensible to the thick carpet. She had been left virtually alone and without comfort or explanation for days, bewildered by her mother and brother's deaths. None of her family had come to see her; even Empress Marianne's most devoted servants had seemingly disappeared and been replaced by strangers who would tell her nothing. When she tried to get to the guards in the bloodstained hall (however much the thought of entering that room again filled her with terror) to find out if they had caught the murderer yet, she had been dragged to her room and locked in, and no amount of crying, screaming, banging or pleading would get anyone to open the door.

Only after hours of useless fury had sent her into an exhausted sleep did she manage to think clearly enough to cajole and threaten the maids who brought her food into helping her dress properly and letting her out. Even then, she would not have been able to leave the Aries Palace grounds if a kind young sergeant of the guard had not ordered his men to let her pass and called for a car to take her to New Westminster to seek an audience with the Emperor. She had only met her father on a few brief and formal occasions before, but everyone always said what a great man he was. Surely he would not stand for any of his wives or sons being murdered and nothing being done about it, she had thought, naively as it turned out.

Though she would not fully understand it until years later, Nunnally's innocence was torn away, brutally and irrevocably, by her father's rejection. Life, she dimly realized, was not as it was in stories or even in the comforting lies people told about it. Parents did not automatically love their children or the other parents of those children. Symbols of justice and protection could be false. Evildoers could go unpunished because sometimes no-one cared. In that moment, the course of her life and the person she would become changed drastically. For the present, however, all she could do was sob and wail uncontrollably, heedless of the spectacle she made.

The Britannian Court watched the little ex-princess' vulgar display with a mixture of shock and amusement, like a group of schoolchildren witnessing an unpopular classmate break down after being humiliated by their teacher. Sniggers and whispers circled the great hall for a few minutes, then finally the Emperor waved his hand negligently.

"Remove her."

Guards stepped from the head of the aisle to carry out the order, but hesitated at a look from the imposing figure that advanced from the shadow of the throne. The whispering among the audience redoubled as they took in the odd sight of Lord Bismarck Waldstein, the highest-ranked knight in the Empire, stooping to pick up a crying little girl.

"Permit me, Your Majesty. I will see that her distress does not trouble the court further."

"You would take this responsibility upon yourself, Knight of One?"

"Aye, Your Majesty. As the daughter of a former Knight of the Round, I would see her dealt with gently."

The Emperor shrugged. "As you wish."

Waldstein lifted Nunnally in his arms as if she weighed nothing, placed a fold of his cloak around her and carried her down the hall, heedless of her tears soaking the shoulder of his uniform. Nobles who had stepped or leaned into the aisle to watch the floor show hurriedly got out of his way, and those on whom his one-eyed gaze fell swallowed, blanched, or looked aside. Silence gradually fell over the room, until the great doors boomed shut behind him and the Emperor called again for the next supplicant.

Nunnally came to her senses to find herself lying on a couch in an antechamber, still wrapped in Bismarck's cloak. He was kneeling at her side, brushing her hair out of her red, puffy eyes and dabbing at her face with a handkerchief. His hands were large and rough, not at all like her mother's or Lelouch's, but she didn't mind. It already seemed so long since the last time either of them had comforted her after she hurt herself or had a bad dream. And now they never would again...the thought made her want to cry again, but she was too exhausted for more than a few dry sobs and hiccups. Bismarck stroked her hair as she got it under control, then gave her the handkerchief so that she could blow her nose. She tried to speak, but found herself unable to do more than croak hoarsely.

"Here." He held up a steaming mug for her. Her stomach rumbled - she had eaten next to nothing in the last three days - and she sipped the hot chocolate without thinking. It was as delicious as it smelled.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she demanded when she could get her voice to work, wary of trusting anyone. She barely knew the Knight of One, and he worked directly for the Emperor. This could be part of some cruel joke to hurt her even more, like when her half-sister Carline asked politely to see her dolls and then broke them all and laughed.

"Should I need a reason to help a child in distress?" he asked, though without anger.

"No-one cares about me now," she sniffled. "Everyone laughed! They hated my mother, and they're glad she's dead, and Lelouch!"

"That is not true. I mourn their deaths as you do. Marianne was a very good friend of mine when she was a Knight of the Round, before she married the Emperor."

Nunnally bristled at the mention of her father. "He never loved her," she spat, "or any of us! I hate him! I wish he was-"

"Hush." Bismarck squeezed her shoulder. "Best not to say such a thing out loud."

"I don't care!"

"The Emperor is...a hard man, with a great deal on his mind and a great many people watching and listening to him. In his position, he cannot afford to be an ordinary husband and father. Now," he held up his hand to forestall her angry objection, "I know that is no comfort. But when you are older, perhaps it will help you understand, a little." Nunnally said nothing to this but drank more chocolate, wrapping her trembling hands around the mug for warmth and concentrating on the rich, sweet taste. At length, Bismarck said: "It was a very brave thing you did, coming to the Emperor by yourself. Your mother was just the same way."

She recalled the story of Marianne the Flash riding a horse into the palace to get the Emperor's attention, and looked down. "But I failed. Mother wouldn't have."

"Because she was an adult, and a knight, and you are a child. There are battles you can win, and battles you cannot, but that is not the same as failure. It was still brave of you, and Marianne would have been proud." The thought made Nunnally feel better, if only a little. Suddenly drowsy, she felt her eyelids begin to droop. Bismarck carefully took the mug from her and tucked his cloak around her again.

/**/

When she next awoke, she was in a hospital bed, bright sunshine falling on her through high windows. A familiar person, her pink-haired head nodding sleepily, sat in a chair nearby.

"Euphie?"

Her half-sister sat up. "Nunnally? You're awake!" Teary-eyed, Euphie nearly threw herself onto the bed and hugged Nunnally tightly. "I'm so sorry...I wanted to come and see you before, but my mother wouldn't let me."

"It's all right..." She returned the hug, a little hesitantly.

"Cornelia's been working really hard to find out what happened! She was so angry...she admired Lady Marianne so much."

"Really?"

"Really! She had a terrible fight with Mother when she heard what happened to you...she nearly went and confronted the Emperor too."

It was just as well Cornelia hadn't, Nunnally thought; the same thing might have happened to her, or worse. "I guess we aren't sisters any more, huh..." she said, a lump in her throat.

"Don't say that! We'll always be sisters!" Euphie squeezed her tighter, and Nunnally clung to her. She wondered what would happen to her now, and if she would ever see Euphie again. Would she be sent away to an orphanage or become a servant like a castaway princess in a story? (Of course, in stories everything always ended well with the princess happy again, she thought bitterly.)

"Where are we?" she asked, realizing she had no idea.

"In the Palace infirmary - Lord Bismarck brought you here and ordered them to look after you, then he guarded the door while you rested. He got really scary when some people tried to get in, the nurse said."

"Who?"

"Just some nobles and a couple of the other consorts, wanting to make fun of you." Euphie looked disgusted. "Why couldn't they just leave you alone? Lord Bismarck made them go away, though. He didn't even shout or anything, she said - he just spoke to them for a minute and they all went white and nearly ran off."

Nunnally felt obscurely pleased, but worried at the same time. Would the Emperor be angry with him for scaring people and letting her stay in the palace? "How long...?"

"Just a day. He sent a message this morning so I could be here when you woke up."

They continued talking quietly for a while, Euphie promising to find out what had happened to the people who helped her leave the Aries Palace and get Cornelia to make sure nothing bad happened to them. Eventually the door opened, and Nunnally heard voices in the corridor outside. Euphie jumped up and curtseyed as the Knight of One entered. "Lord Bismarck! Thank you so much for sending for me, and for everything you've done for Nunnally."

"You're welcome, Princess Euphemia. Might I speak with Nunnally in private?"

"Of course." Giving her sister's hand a last squeeze, Euphie hurried out and the door shut behind her.

Alone with the Knight of One again, Nunnally felt tongue-tied and shy. He was very tall, she thought as he sat down in the chair Euphie had vacated - as tall as Charles, though not as broad. His craggy face with its small beard was stern and unsmiling, and she could easily see how he could scare people, though in a totally different way to the Emperor.

"I...I don't know how to thank you, Lord Bismarck," she said nervously. "Euphie said you guarded me all night...you must be tired. I'm so sorry."

"It was nothing, Nunnally. I did only what was decent. And as I said yesterday, your mother was someone who I admired very much." He paused, and his expression softened just a little. "In another life...I might have been your father."

She was unsure what to say to that. It was strange to think of her mother with someone else, but nice to know that someone had cared about her, unlike the Emperor. What would her life have been like if Mother had married Lord Bismarck instead, she wondered? Would he have taught her and Lelouch to be knights like him? "I...would have liked that," she said impulsively.

He coughed. "Nunnally...the Emperor has given me permission to adopt you as my own daughter...if you wish it."

She stared up at him open-mouthed, feeling suddenly warm. "You...want to be my father?"

"Understand, I can never replace your mother. I have never had a family of my own, and I will be away a great deal...but I promise that I will do my best to keep you safe and give you a secure future. "

"Can I still see Euphie and Cornelia?" Nunnally asked.

"Certainly."

"What will happen to me if I don't...?"

"I will make sure you have a good home regardless."

That reassured her, and she smiled tentatively for the first time since her mother and Lelouch died. "Thank you..."

"You should think about it for a while before you make a decision. I will see that you are not disturbed in the meantime."

"I will," Nunnally promised.

/**/**/

_**Extract from a personal letter sent by Lady Wilhelmina Spencer to her sister Diana, dated 1st December 2009**_

Dear sister,

You will recall, of course, the entertainment provided to the Court last week when the surviving whelp of the late and unlamented Lady Marianne blubbered her way out of her inheritance. Now, it seems, the Knight of One has taken pity on her again and adopted her as his own out of some lingering fondness for the mother. The Emperor's personal knight is, of course, above reproach, but nonetheless rumours have been circulating that perhaps that guttersnipe of a woman was less than faithful to His Majesty (which would surprise no-one) and led Lord Bismarck astray. Many have been assiduously examining their diaries for the period nine months before the girl's birth.

In other news, the Emperor granted an audience to the Japanese Ambassador this afternoon, and was suitably forthright in his dismissal of the slant-eyed profiteers' continual self-serving adjustments to the price of Sakuradite. Reassurances were made on both sides, but the general mood is that war is inevitable before the end of next year, and about time too. Those shifty islanders deserve no less than conquest for their faithless, mercenary ways.

Prince Harold, I am told, scandalized all present at Princess Carline's fancy dress party when he arrived dressed as a Napoleonic French officer...

/**/

_**Pendragon Times front page article, 31st August 2015**_

AN EMPIRE MOURNS

Silence reigns across more than one-third of the globe today following the announcement of the death of 98th Emperor Charles zi Britannia. In a press conference late last night, Second Prince and Prime Minister Schneizel el Britannia revealed that the Emperor was shot dead by a lone assassin believed to be the same individual responsible for the murder of Empress Marianne vi Britannia and her son, Eleventh Prince Lelouch, six years ago _(cont. p.2-5, full obituary p.94)_

/**/

_**Military court transcript, Oakshield Base, Indochina Province (formerly Area 10), 2017-09-22, court martial of Warrant Officer (Provisional) Nunnally L. Waldstein. Charges: Insubordination, brawling, threatening a superior officer.**_

LT.J.G. DANIEL KAFFEE (DEFENDING): Warrant Officer Waldstein, please tell the court in your own words what happened on the evening of September 3rd.

W.O. N.L. WALDSTEIN (DEFENDANT): After checking the disposition of my squadron's Knightmares, I decided to take a walk around the camp perimeter before turning in. While passing one of the - according to the official map - unused barracks huts near the western side of the camp, I heard what sounded like a woman screaming from inside. I immediately made my way to the hut entrance and found it locked. However, there was a considerable amount of noise emanating from the inside which suggested that some sort of revelry was in progress. The scream was repeated several times, accompanied by laughter and cheering. I therefore knocked loudly on the door, which was opened after around thirty seconds.

DK: What did you see inside?

NLW: Inside were approximately twenty soldiers of the base garrison, ranked between private and lieutenant, in various stages of inebriation. Also present...also present were seven local women, mostly undressed and several showing symptoms of sedation, severe intoxication, or physical abuse. One woman, who had given the screams I heard earlier, was lying on the floor being restrained by four soldiers while a fifth attempted to have sexual intercourse with her. The soldier who had opened the door, who was obviously highly inebriated, recognized me as female, invited me to 'join the party', in his words, and attempted to lay hands on me. I fended him off and loudly demanded an explanation for what was happening.

DK: What explanation was given?

NLW: The ranking officer in the room - Lieutenant Rankin - ordered me to leave, stating that what was going on was 'none of my business'. I reminded him of the existence of severe penalties in Army regulations for rape and sexual coercion and stated that I would be informing Colonel Jessep of the incident. He appeared to find this amusing and repeated the order. I informed him that I could not in good conscience allow a possible sexual assault to continue, and asked that the women be released from the hut and given medical attention. At this the lieutenant became angry and made a number of threats.

DK: What was the nature of these threats?

NLW: He stated that he would see my career ended, and that if I did not leave immediately I would 'get some of what they got', referring to the women. Being outnumbered, I immediately drew my sidearm and discharged it twice into the air to attract attention. Lieutenant Rankin then ordered his men to seize and disarm me, which they attempted to do.

DK: Attempted?

NLW: The ensuing fight was ongoing when Lieutenant Rankin recognized my identity and ordered my assailants to stand down. The first response squad arrived moments afterward.

DK: When you informed Colonel Jessep of the evening's events, what was his response?

NLW: He informed me that the women kept in the unused hut were, in effect, camp followers present of their own free will.

(...)

DK: Did you authorize the sexual enslavement of women on your base, Colonel?

COLONEL NATHAN R. JESSEP: What do you want to hear, Lieutenant?

DK: I want the truth.

NRJ: You can't handle the truth! I uphold the glory of this Empire so that you can sit comfortably at home wringing your hands and cursing the men whose lives buy you that comfort. If a few damn yellow whores get roughed up a little so my men can do their jobs, or a wet-behind-the-ears little girl gets her precious sensibilities offended, I consider that a more than worthwhile price to pay! And if you have a problem with that, then you can go to hell.

DK: Did you authorize sexual enslavement on your base, Colonel?

NRJ: I did the job that-

DK: Did you authorize sexual enslavement?

NRJ: You're damn right I did!

DK: No further questions, Your Honour.

/**/

_**Leading article, Knightmares Teen Monthly, November 2018**_

BRITANNIA'S TOP YOUNG GUNS PUT THE HUNS ON THE RUN!

The five brilliant young pilots of Zero Squadron (first reported on in KTM in July of this year) are to be decorated later this month for their almost single-handed defence of Rangoon Port on October 17th-18th. Piloting their Vincent advanced pre-production prototype general-purpose Knightmare Frames (see pull-out this issue!), the heroic fivesome destroyed wave upon wave of EU Panzer Hummel Frames in a night-long battle that left the docks strewn with wreckage.

PICTURED L-R:

Lt. Anya Alstreim (15), callsign Iceman

Lt. Amelia Cyrus (16), callsign Montana

Lt. Ephraim Troy (18), callsign Wildcat

Lt. Gino Weinberg (17), callsign Maverick

Lt. Nunnally Waldstein (15), callsign Nemo

Not content to rest on their laurels, Zero Squadron have since been transferred to the North Burma front to face the Indian Republic's would-be invasion force. Details of operations in this region remain classified, but KTM was able to secure an exclusive interview with the team to talk about their past exploits and life on the battle-lines. Of course, the question our readers most want answered is: has romance blossomed in the ranks amid the tropical heat? Have the charms of easygoing Gino and earnest Ephraim caused flutterings in the hearts of cute and stoic Anya, sweet and passionate Nunnally or bright and peppy Amelia? Sadly, the young heroes were silent on this subject, but our reporters claim to have detected some significant looks passing between _(continued page 94)_

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE:

-The lovely ladies of Valkyrie Squadron - as you've never seen them before!

-Captain Jeremiah Clarkson and Lieutenant James Hyneman test whether it really is possible to destroy a Chinese Federation Gun-Ru using only a golf club, a tent spike and a bottle of Theakston's Old Peculiar!

-The top ten most badass Knightmare weapons revealed, as voted for by you*!

_*This publication does not endorse democracy as a valid means of decision-making outside the realm of humorous popularity contests. All hail Britannia._

/**/**/

_**29th May 2019**_

"Step forward and be recognized, Gino Weinberg, Anya Alstreim, Nunnally Waldstein!"

The three teenagers made an odd spectacle as they advanced up the aisle and bowed to Emperor Odysseus. Tall, blond and handsome, Gino would have fit the image of an aspiring knight well enough were it not for his carefree grin. Next to his lanky frame, the two younger girls looked comically small, especially Anya, who could pass for a rather mature and morose primary-schooler. Her bubblegum-pink hair and the odd midriff-baring cut of her new uniform only added to the incongruity. Even Nunnally, wiry and strong for her age and build thanks to years of training, hardly seemed to embody the Britannian warrior ideal. Many of those watching with long memories remarked - to themselves or surreptitiously to their neighbours - on the fact that the last time the former princess had been seen in this room, she had thrown a ridiculous childish temper tantrum and had to be carried out.

Before the advent of Knightmare combat drastically altered the physical demands placed on soldiers, it would have been ludicrous to contemplate raising such youngsters to high rank. In this brave new world, however, talent in that one all-important area was so valuable that not only were those who possessed it being recruited young, but true excellence could fast-track someone all the way into the Round.

Nunnally felt only pride to be announced by her adoptive father's name. She had been offered her royal status and surname back following Emperor Charles' death three years ago, but declined; she wanted nothing from that man, the memory of whom still stirred lingering fear and anger in her.

"Approach the Throne, Gino Weinberg."

Still smiling broadly as if without a care in the world, Gino climbed to the highest step below the dais, went down on one knee and recited the Knight's Oath in clear, ringing tones. Nunnally knew the words by heart, but they never failed to move her. The Imperial Creed, the code of knightly honour whose ancestry could be traced back to the near-mythical Emperor Arthur, was probably mere noise to the majority of the people in this room - high-sounding but empty rhetoric to impress the supposedly dull-witted masses. She knew Gino took it almost as seriously as she did, however - otherwise he would not have worked his way to where he now stood. Odysseus u Britannia's smiling face betrayed no hint of irony; perhaps he felt the same way in his un-confrontational fashion.

The ceremonial sword tapped Gino on each shoulder. "Arise, Sir Gino Weinberg, Knight of Three. Approach the Throne, Anya Alstreim." The newly-minted knight rose smoothly to his feet and descended the steps to thunderous applause, giving his comrade an encouraging pat on the shoulder before raising his hand and beaming at the crowd (one or two ladies were heard to swoon). Anya spoke the Oath without emotion, as always. The other girl remained something of an enigma to Nunnally, though she amply respected her skill in a Knightmare, enjoyed her company and was happy to tolerate her eccentricities. Said eccentricities included having Gino take her picture as she was being dubbed; Nunnally suppressed a snort of laughter as he held up Anya's bright pink camera-phone without a trace of embarrassment.

"Arise, Lady Anya Alstreim, Knight of Six." The camera clicked again as Anya stood. "Approach the Throne, Nunnally Waldstein."

Anya gave her an odd, searching look as they passed on the steps; it seemed almost as if she had tears in her eyes and even a slight smile on her face. Nunnally shrugged it off - the other girl had every right to show happiness at this moment, after all. Her father's face was impassive as he stood in his customary place behind the throne, but she smiled for him as well as the Emperor anyway, knowing how proud he was without needing to be told. She knelt gracefully and took a deep breath for the Oath.

"Nunnally Waldstein, dost thou wish to serve Britannia as a Knight of the Round?"

"Your Majesty, I do."

"Wilt thou swear to follow the ancient creed of the Round Table?"

"Your Majesty, I will."

"Then speak."

"I, Nunnally Lamperouge Waldstein, do solemnly swear to uphold the honour and traditions of the Knights of the Round, and to be ever the living embodiment of Britannia's ideals. To seek no battle that is not worthy, and to stand firm even in the face of a hundred foes. To speak no untruth, and to pierce all deception. To serve Crown and country without thought of base reward."

Nunnally wondered if any of the war profiteers and sweatshop owners in the audience felt the slightest twinge of shame as they listened to the Oath. Paying lip service to an ideal one held in contempt was very foolish, she mused. There was always the danger that others less cynical would take it seriously and hold one to it. That was a lesson she intended to teach the power brokers of Britannia.

"To make of defeat, victory. Of chaos, order. Of barbarism, civilization."

Odysseus carefully raised the ceremonial blade to point at her heart (or somewhere in the general vicinity, at least - he showed obvious discomfort at the gesture). "Wilt thou hold to this oath on pain of death, unto the ending of thy life?"

"Your Majesty, I will."

The ritual taps barely touched her shoulders, but they felt heavy as mountains nonetheless. "Then be invested with the rank of Knight of the Round. Be thou the Empire's sword and shield, guiding light and inspiration to all true Britannians. Arise, Lady Nunnally Waldstein, Knight of Seven."

The newest Knight of the Round rose to her feet and smiled serenely at the assembled aristocracy of Britannia. Most clapped vigorously - some with simple pleasure, or nationalistic pride, or enthusiasm for the martial spirit of youth. Others, eager to get back to the real business of government (namely, dividing the spoils of war and labour) applauded for appearance's sake, or with relief at the end of the slightly embarrassing puppet show.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes:** Gah. One of these days, maybe I'll post a Code Geass fic that doesn't have Nunnally crying her eyes out in the first chapter. At any rate, this particular premise (Lelouch dying in Marianne's assassination, Nunnally remaining in Britannia and being adopted by Bismarck) was inspired by a number of different things. I've had a crack-theory for a long time that Nunnally is not Charles' daughter, but Bismarck's, based on Bismarck's canon affection for Marianne and the fact that her Geass in the Nightmare of Nunnally manga is similar to his. Of course, it's clearly nonsense (Nunnally looks nothing like Bismarck but has Charles' hair colour, and V.V. looks quite a bit like her), which is why I went with the adoption plotline here, partly inspired by the crossover fic One And Only Son by Juubi-K. The title and other elements, including the writing style and the fictional documents, were influenced (as previously mentioned) by Cal Reflector's Lelouch of Britannia. Said fictional documents also feature a few shout-outs (of varying degrees of obscurity) to other works of fiction and real life things, people and events. If anyone manages to spot them all, there will be cake. ;-)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **Code Geass is the property of Sunrise, Bandai et al. No money is being made from this fanfic and it will be removed if the above parties so request. All your base are belong to us._

**Code Geass: Nunnally of Britannia  
Chapter 2**

_**26th October 2013**_

"Do you understand what you're asking, Nunnally?"

Nunnally and her father had been companionably cleaning and polishing some of his collection of antique weapons when she had announced her intention to be a knight. She had chosen the moment carefully, yesterday having been her tenth birthday, the age at which he had told her he had begun training for knighthood himself. She had had a lovely party with Euphemia, Cornelia (on a rare visit from the Indonesian front) and some of her friends from school, and Milly Ashford had made a video call from Area 11, where her family was still effectively exiled.

"Yes," she said firmly.

"You don't have to prove anything or follow in my and your mother's footsteps to please me. You're intelligent and hard-working; you can be anything you want."

"Good. Because I want to be a knight."

He gave a barely perceptible sigh. "I see. Why?" His gaze was intent and searching; she knew he was looking for any sign that she was saying what he wanted to hear, and chose her words carefully.

"I want to be strong enough to protect people who need help, who no-one else will stand up for, like you protected me. And I want to make sure people in power are following the law and being fair, not just doing whatever they want." She wondered if she had gone too close to the heart of the matter - her wish for a world unlike the cruel and uncaring Empire Charles zi Britannia seemed to desire - but Bismarck only nodded.

"Those are worthy goals. But you're old enough to know that the Empire doesn't always allow such idealism to flourish. Not all knights are so generous, or scrupulous."

"I know that. But they should be. And if only bad people become knights because of that, then soon there won't be any good knights left, will there?"

"True. Even so...this is a difficult path you are choosing, Nunnally. If you follow it, you will have to work and learn harder than you ever have in your life so far, face adversity and danger, and most likely deal with disappointment and disillusionment."

"If it was easy, it wouldn't be worth doing, right?" she said stoutly, adapting one of his own sayings. "I won't give up just because it's hard, I swear."

"I don't doubt your determination. But there are other obstacles in your way, ones that are no fault of your own, such as your gender, even today, and...the circumstances of your birth."

"Do you think the Emperor won't allow it?" she asked. The thought had occurred to her, but she held out the hope that her biological father simply wouldn't care what she did. He had barely been seen in public for the last year; there were a lot of things he was already leaving to others that were far more important, from what she knew. Deep down, she secretly wondered if becoming a knight would show him that he had been wrong to call her weak and pathetic, but she doubted it.

"It is a possibility...but a small one, as long as your conduct is acceptable, and I will speak to him if it becomes an issue."

"Good. If I can...I still want to do it."

"Very well. I have someone in mind who can teach you the fundamentals better than I can; I will talk to her tomorrow. If all goes well, there should be no difficulty putting your name in for the accelerated Knightmare training program."

"Thank you!" Leaping up from her seat, Nunnally darted round the table and hugged her father, or as much of him as she could reach. He gingerly patted her hair.

/**/

_**12th November 2013**_

"More tea, Nunnally?"

"Yes, thank you, Lady Kruszewski," Nunnally replied politely, holding out her cup.

"Monica, please." The Knight of Twelve poured daintily from the pot, whose white, pink and gold sunset design matched the cups. "Something else to eat?"

"No, thank you; I feel quite full." That was an understatement - Monica had plied her with smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches and slices of the most delicious iced sponge cake she had ever tasted until she felt about ready to burst.

"Good. I thought I had made far too much, but then I remembered being your age."

Monica Kruszewski had been one of the most decorated members of the Imperial Marine Commando before joining the Rounds, and a famously deadly master of hand-to-hand combat. She generally shared the duty of physically guarding the Emperor with Bismarck, who seemed to consider her his best friend among the Rounds. Even the stories about her exploits that Nunnally was allowed to listen to sounded almost unbelievable: posing as a cook when the battleship _Empress Elizabeth_ was taken over by EU special forces, then taking down the entire sixty-man infiltration team with only a laundry boy, a middle-aged gunner's mate and the Captain's girlfriend for help? Going AWOL to track down the kidnapped, nine-year-old Eighth Princess Victoria when the Imperial Family refused to negotiate with the Val Verdan terrorists who had taken her, marching into their island base with a planeload of stolen weapons and defeating over a hundred and fifty men? Leading her squad into the Middle Eastern Federation to free the passengers of a hijacked Air Britannia flight in an operation that allegedly involved such stunts as attaching rocket launchers to motorbikes?

None of this was at all apparent from the time they had spent together so far, ostensibly to discuss future training, though so far they had talked about almost everything except that. Nunnally had expected Monica to be stern and serious like Cornelia or her father, but she had turned out to be not only kind and friendly, but actually very funny. She had told some quite shockingly naughty jokes and stories about a lot of famous and important people, although some of her sense of humour went over Nunnally's head at times. In fact, she had realized after one tale about a drunken Imperial Field Marshal running around a mobile base in his boxer shorts looking for his wig had reduced her to helpless laughter, Monica reminded her of her mother. The thought was a little sad, but pleasant as well. She found herself more at ease around the Knight of Twelve than anyone except Euphie, and looking forward to learning from her.

Monica drained her teacup and set it down. Then, without warning, she leapt onto the table with a crash of crockery and crouched poised there for a terrifying moment, her smile gone and her eyes narrowed. Then, almost without seeming to move across the intervening space, she had knocked over Nunnally's chair and pinned her to the ground with one hand, while the other drove the handle of a teaspoon towards her throat. Nunnally screamed, reflexively closed her eyes, and...nothing happened. When she plucked up the courage to look, Monica was smiling again and withdrawing the spoon from where it had stopped a centimetre from her skin. She backed away so that Nunnally could sit up.

"Now, what have you just learned?"

_That you're very scary?_ Nunnally thought as her breathing gradually returned to normal, still too shocked to speak.

"Lesson one: combat doesn't always take place when you expect it, where you expect it, or how you expect it. Almost anything can be a weapon," Monica held up the teaspoon for emphasis, "almost anywhere can be a battlefield, anyone you don't have a good sense of can be a threat. That's why instinct, awareness and adaptability are a soldier's best friends. Physical strength, combat drills, all that jazz, they're important, but they're just ways of applying those three."

Nunnally nodded solemnly, trying to commit everything Monica had said to memory.

"Enough of me rambling; time to put your thinking cap on. What could you have done to stop me?"

"Ah...nothing?"

Monica's smile vanished for the first time. "Apparently you've mistaken me for the kind of teacher who likes to make their student feel like a complete idiot so that they unquestioningly accept everything they're told. If I wanted an answer like that, I wouldn't bother asking the question," she said tightly. "Now, think properly. Ignore the fact that I'm bigger and stronger than you, if that makes any difference; it's not important to the question."

She opened and closed her mouth - she did feel like a complete idiot.

"Think, Nunnally! There's a madwoman coming at you to gouge out your throat! Do something if you don't want to die in a pool of-"

Blood suddenly pounded in Nunnally's ears as she remembered, with horrible clarity, hearing the roaring, clattering sound of gunfire, running in terror into the atrium of the Aries Villa to find her mother and brother lying amid glittering shards of broken glass and puddles of red, the smell, the sound of her own voice screaming endlessly in her ears... Gritting her teeth, she forced the memory away, buried the fear and helplessness, and made herself calm.

"Knock the table over," she ground out. "You stepped on the table to get to me. If I knocked it over, you'd lose your balance. It doesn't look that heavy." She could see as much at a glance below the lace cover; the carved walnut legs were thin and spindly.

Monica nodded, smiling again. "Good enough for a start; that would buy you some breathing room. What would you do next to fend off me and my deadly spoon when I emerged from the wreckage of the table madder than ever?" She pulled a face that might have made Nunnally laugh under other circumstances.

"Ah..." _Anything can be a weapon, _Nunnally thought. "Pick up my chair and use it to hit you with?"

"Why the chair and not, say a knife?"

"The chair's bigger."

"Good; you're grasping the importance of reach and mass in combat. Sometimes size does matter..."

/**/

_**August 4th 2017**_

The point of Nunnally's sabre danced around the Cambodian militiaman's machete, and the edge sliced across the inside of his unprotected wrist. He screamed - silently, as the sound was drowned out by a burst of automatic weapons fire fifty yards away - and dropped his weapon to clutch at the wound. She put him out of the fight for good with a thrust to the throat, winced at the splash he made as he fell into the muddy pool at the bottom of the trench, and continued on towards the machine-gun nest covering the southern end of Kurtz Base.

The anti-Knightmare defences had proved worse than useless against the lightly armed surprise attack, simply providing the militia with cover for their infiltration and then ready-made firing positions. The gunners she was now working her way towards were covering the open ground in front of the Knightmare hangars, making it impossible for the Britannian pilots to get to their machines and scramble. Already one hangar was in ruins after explosives placed by roving militia detonated stored ammunition in a chain reaction, and mortar bombs were falling around the barracks huts and mess. Sporadic return fire was keeping the enemy's forward units pinned down for now, but the base's main strength was in its Knightmares, and the militia's man-portable heavy weapons would chew the Britannian defenders away to nothing if the present situation remained unchanged.

The forward army units here were woefully unprepared for fighting in the jungle, that much had become apparent to Nunnally over the last few weeks. The senior commanders had grown too used to battles of manoeuvre in the open, or urban warfare. Out here, cleared trails and paths all but disappeared in a matter of days, making maps and fixed patrol routes useless, equipment broke down in the humidity, and even Knightmares got stuck in the eternally damp ground and were unable to find high ground among the trees and flat swampland. The only saving grace was that at least most of the locals disliked the enemy marginally more than the Britannians, since they left them alone for the most part instead of trying to impose revolutionary ideology on them.

Nunnally halted just before the next bend in the trench, dropping to her knees in the mud. She could hear the roar of the machine-gun just beyond, and drew her sidearm before peering very carefully round the corner. There were four men in the trench with the gun; one firing it, one holding ammunition belts, and two more with rifles firing in between bursts from the heavy weapon. Nunnally ducked back behind cover and took a deep breath while she planned her actions as methodically as she dared - she had only the six rounds left in her pistol, not having been able to safely stop moving long enough to pick up another weapon from a fallen enemy.

Shaking wet hair out of her eyes, she waited for the sound of the machine-gun to die away, signalling that it was loading and the riflemen were busy with covering fire. Then she sprang round the corner with her gun in both hands and fired twice into the nearest one's back. She shifted her aim before any of the other men could do more than look up and shot the second rifleman, hitting him in the shoulder but missing with the second shot as he fell. The machine-gunner and loader were already in motion, and she charged with a yell, firing left-handed while drawing her sabre with practiced ease. Her last bullet hit the gunner at point-blank range and knocked him back against his gun; the loader wasted half a second gaping at her and paid for it as she stabbed him through the gut.

She looked towards the injured rifleman just in time to see him awkwardly raise his weapon from where he lay, and twisted aside from the wavering muzzle. A bullet traced a red-hot line across her hip, then she covered the distance between them and knocked the rifle aside. They wrestled for it, Nunnally trying to hold on with one hand while getting her sword into position, but even when she hacked at his left arm he refused to let go. A flare bursting overhead illuminated his screaming face directly below hers, and she slammed her forehead into it. His death-grip on the rifle loosened, she rocked back on her knees to give herself space, and he finally subsided as the sabre drove down into his face.

Spitting out blood and mud and gritting her teeth against the pain in her side, Nunnally clambered to her feet and checked the others, who were all mercifully dead. She glanced down the trench in both directions, then, seeing no enemy reinforcements coming her way, went over to the abandoned machine-gun and looked through the sights. The firefight across the base was still going on, but the militia were slowly advancing between patches of cover. She made out a group laden down with satchel charges running for the remaining Knightmare hangar, and hurriedly swung the heavy weapon around to open fire on them.

/**/**/

_**Extract, Pendragon Metro article, page**_ _**2, 12th October 2017**_

KEEPING IT IN THE FAMILY

(photograph)

Knight of One Lord Bismarck Waldstein presents the Elizabeth Cross to his daughter Nunnally during an inspection tour of the pacification and reconstruction of Indochina Province. While a member of the Knightmare Cadet Brigade attached to the VIIth Army, the younger Waldstein was cut off in the north-western jungle in August when Forward Base Kurtz was destroyed by Red Faction terrorists. Acquitting herself with outstanding heroism during the assault, she killed more than twenty of the enemy and saved seven Knightmares from destruction. She took charge of her cadet unit and other survivors following the deaths of all senior officers, and led them on a dangerous six-day journey through deep jungle to safety at Oakshield Base despite suffering multiple wounds

At the tender age of thirteen years and 352 days, Warrant Officer Waldstein is the second youngest recipient of Britannia's highest decoration...

/**/

_**Editorial, Berliner Zeit, 14th October 2017**_

BRITANNIA'S PUBESCENT ANGEL OF DEATH: A WARNING OF THINGS TO COME?

The grotesque sight in the Britannian press this week of a tiny barely-teenaged soldier being decorated for valour - that is, for killing other human beings - should bring a shudder to the heart of any decent observer. Compounding the horror is the fact that the man pinning the Elizabeth Cross to the chest of the deceptively innocent-looking girl is her own father, Britannia's Knight of One (a title harking back not coincidentally to mythological times and an era when the military and ruling classes were one and the same). What sane parent would wish such a life on their thirteen-year-old child? What modern society would tolerate such a thing, save Britannia?

Sights such as these should remind us that whatever assurances and gestures of reform the new Britannian regime puts forward, the so-called Holy Empire's society and ideology have not fundamentally changed. While Emperor Odysseus speaks words of peace put in his mouth by his brother the Prime Minister and signs arms limitation treaties, the Empire's Knightmare Corps is being expanded to the delight of the aristocratic merchants of murder, its ranks swelled with impressionable teenagers (such as those in the laughably named Junior Peace Alliance) conditioned to view war as little more than a video game. The short-sighted doves currently holding the majority in the Central Hemicycle are blind to the lessons of...

/**/**/

_**29th May 2019**_

The White Tower of Pendragon Palace had been the domain of the Knights of the Round ever since the palace's construction over a hundred and fifty years ago. It housed spacious apartments for all twelve knights decorated in the colours corresponding to their numbers, though these were seldom used full-time since most maintained estates in or around the city. The domed chamber at its summit, high windows all around its circumference providing day-round sunlight and breathtaking views across Pendragon City, housed the Round Table itself - not the fabled original, enthusiasts were always disappointed to learn, but an elegant walnut and mahogany affair from the 1940s.

It was to this room that the three new Knights were conducted, the white-liveried servants who were the only others permitted into the Tower opening doors ahead of them with smooth efficiency. The Knights of One, Four, Nine and Twelve rose to greet their new brethren. Bismarck stood before the high thronelike chair that was the room's only concession to his seniority - the leader of the Rounds was very much first among equals. Dorothea Ernst, Nonette Enneagram and Monica Kruszewski stepped forward with the newcomers' formal capes ready for presentation.

The three women, perhaps not coincidentally, represented three different branches of Britannia's armed forces. Dorothea had made her name in the Imperial Air Force, most notably shooting down eighteen EU Dassault Mirages during the First Battle of the Atlantic. Nonette, who had been a schoolmate of Princess Cornelia, hailed from the Knightmare corps, the military's new favourite child, where she had helped to pioneer the anti-armour tactics used in the invasion of Japan.

The only Knight not present was Luciano Bradley, for which the others were grateful. The Knight of Ten had been foisted on the Rounds over strenuous objections behind closed doors, and was kept in the field much of the time to prevent friction (which suited his temperament just fine). At the moment he was in the South-East Asian provinces - the laughably self-titled freedom fighters there were welcome to him, Nunnally thought with a shudder, remembering the piles of human skulls, buildings filled with charred bones, and horribly mutilated survivors of the nightmarish decades-long struggle which Britannia and the other superpowers had all been little more than horrified spectators to.

"Be welcome to the Round Table, Knight of Three, Knight of Six, Knight of Seven." Bismarck intoned. Nonette - the only one tall enough - stood on tiptoe to sweep Gino's dark green, gold-decorated cloak around his broad shoulders, while Dorothea stooped to fasten Anya's pink one and Monica attended to Nunnally's kingfisher-blue. They took their allotted seats around the table - Anya and Nunnally opposite Bismarck and Monica, Gino opposite Nonette with Dorothea on his left.

"Who guards the Emperor, brothers and sisters?" Bismarck asked - the formal opening to any meeting of all the Rounds, ensuring that their original and still most important task was in safe hands.

"My subordinates, the brothers Jonas," Nonette replied promptly.

"And my comrades, the members of Team Durandal," Monica added.

The Knight of One nodded, satisfied. "First order of business: the Rounds code sequences, passwords and other classified information are listed in the documents before you." He indicated the bulging folders in front of Gino, Anya and Nunnally. "Most of it won't be immediately relevant to the three of you since you won't be added to the Imperial Bodyguard duty roster for the time being, but you should memorize it all as soon as possible - please don't take the dossiers outside the Tower. One of us will take each of you through the Palace evacuation drills and show you the secret corridors and safe-rooms tomorrow, to be on the safe side. Once you've received and shaken down your new Knightmares-" Gino's face lit up with childlike glee, and Anya looked almost excited "-you'll be posted to the Protectorate of Japan. Duchess Beatrice will give you an official briefing tomorrow, but I expect you can guess what your primary mission there will be."

Nunnally could. The hated, hunted but still-dangerous remnants of the Japan Liberation Front possessed the most advanced Knightmares outside the Empire - including technology stolen from it, in fact. It made perfect sense to send the best Knightmares and pilots to finish them once and for all. The prospect was cheering. The JLF were terrorists of the most loathsome stripe, who had killed thousands of their own countrymen in their reckless use of experimental weaponry and continued their war despite the loss of almost all their support, pointlessly disturbing the fragile peace between the superpowers in the region. Crushing them would benefit even the people they claimed to fight for, and push back the spectre of a global cataclysm a little further. It would be an altogether cleaner and more satisfying task than slaughtering misguided Indian conscripts on the Burma front, or chasing fanatical child soldiers through the Indochinese jungle.

"That concludes official business." Everyone around the table relaxed a little - or more than a little in the case of Gino, who loosened his collar and visibly slouched in his seat. "I suggest we adjourn to the common room, since the welcome ball doesn't start for several hours yet." Bismarck said to affirmative nods. "If you would remain behind a moment, Knight of Seven?"

The others filed out of the room, leaving Nunnally and her father seated across from each other. Bismarck rose, his expression softening, and she followed suit. "That chair hasn't been occupied in nearly thirty years," he mused as he walked round the table.

Nunnally nodded. Sir Lionel Churchill, the last Knight of Seven, had died several years before the rebellion that claimed the lives of all the Rounds save Bismarck and Marianne, and he had been the third incumbent in eighteen months. Some said that the seventh seat at the Round Table was cursed, which she thought was stuff and nonsense - if anything, the numbers of the turncoats should be tarnished. Charles zi Britannia had been a cruel (and, in his final years, neglectful) ruler and a shameless warmonger, but the rebellion had had little to do with that and far more with preserving the interests of equally bad or worse elements among the aristocracy. "I'll do my best to fill it well."

"I know you will. God, I'm proud of you, Nunnally." Bismarck moved suddenly to her side and caught her in an awkward, soldierly embrace. Surprised but pleased by the rare gesture, Nunnally returned the hug and rested her head on his chest. He thumped her gently on the back and released her with an embarrassed cough before making a show of adjusting his cloak clasp.

"I love you too," she said with a bright smile, patting his arm. "Shall we join the others?" He nodded, his answering smile small but nonetheless there.

/**/

"Lord Bismarck, I must submit a formal request for more men to be admitted to the Rounds," Gino said in a put-upon voice as Nunnally and Bismarck entered the Tower lounge, having left their cloaks with the servants. "I think I'm in danger of being hen-pecked to death." He was seated in one of the armchairs with Dorothea and Monica on either side of him, Anya watching from across the coffee table as Nonette tried to braid his hair.

"Not man enough to handle five of us by yourself?" Nonette asked, batting her eyelashes to exasperated looks from Monica and Dorothea. "I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Knight of Three. Plenty of men would kill to be in your situation, I'll have you know."

"I shall endeavour to rise to the occasion, Knight of Nine," he shot back.

"I will...take it under consideration," Bismarck said with the faintest hint of amusement.

"Yes, then all you boys can get together and crush beer cans on your foreheads or nail stags' heads to the walls and suchlike." Monica shook her head. "Come on, Nunnally, let's ease poor Gino's burden a little." She hooked her arm through Nunnally's, and they retreated to one of the further tables.

"Let's have a look at you...God, they grow up so fast," Monica said, moving her hand up and down to check their relative heights. "Your uniform turned out well, too."

"Thanks." Nunnally had deliberately had her Rounds uniform styled after the Knight of Twelve's, with a skirt rather than trousers or breeches, to honour her mentor. Whimsically, she had raised and flared the hem a little, and added scalloping and a lace fringe. It made her look a bit like a ballerina, but was comfortable and as easy to move around in as any other uniform, if not more.

"When I heard about the design, I thought the frills might be taking 'obfuscating cuteness' a bit too far, but it works for you. You'd look adorable in a burlap sack; might as well play it to the hilt."

Nunnally blushed. "You guessed the idea. I was sort of trying to match with Anya as well."

"Not too much, thankfully. I'm not sure the 'twelve-year-old Bangkok streetwalker' look would be quite you." Monica glanced over to where Anya was in the middle of calmly telling a story that seemed to be embarrassing Gino a great deal, from the increasingly frantic shushing motions he was making. "Where on earth did she find a tattoo artist willing to do that for her at her age?" she asked rhetorically, referring to the scarlet Imperial emblem on the Knight of Six's bare upper arm.

"She...likes to be the centre of attention," Nunnally explained diplomatically. In a way, she reflected, Anya and Monica were quite alike. Both had seemingly contradictory or even 'split' personalities that were, in fact, simply multifaceted. Monica's cheerful, gentle femininity and Anya's...quirkiness, for want of a better word, were in no way facades any more than their efficient and merciless attitudes in battle.

"That's one way of putting it. Please tell me you didn't go out and get matching tattoos..."

"No, Mother." Monica rolled her eyes at their private joke. When she was younger, Nunnally had briefly thought it would be nice if her father and her mentor, who got along so well despite their apparent differences, got married, so that Monica would be her mother and Bismarck would have someone to make him smile more. The notion had made Monica laugh out loud when she shamefacedly told her about it, mildly offending Nunnally until she explained that it was a nice idea, but she didn't like men that way.

"Good. And I hope you two haven't been staying up late and getting into fights with boys again."

"Well...maybe a little," Nunnally admitted with feigned contrition, trying to keep a straight face.

"Oh dear, my innocent daughter is being led into delinquent ways," Monica lamented. "Where did I go wrong? At least you found a nice boyfriend." She looked again at Gino, who had now apparently turned the tables, telling a tale of his own with a broad grin while Nonette and Dorothea stared at an unruffled Anya in amused bewilderment.

Nunnally groaned. "You've been reading _Knightmares Teen Monthly_ again, haven't you..."

"It's relaxing. I enjoy seeing if they can beat their own record for largest number of factual errors in one page."

"So they're still insisting on implying that Gino and I are an item?" Nunnally had been rather puzzled by the interviewer's probing questions about her opinions of Zero Squadron's two male members - until the article came out and she discovered to her surprise that she and Gino were all but engaged. (His response had been to say that she had better buy a stepladder.)

"Sadly, yes. It's not your fault that they ran with the idea of the two most blue-blooded members of the squadron who weren't complete weirdoes pairing off."

"And completely ignored the two 'commoners'..." Nunnally looked away. "Ephraim and Amelia should have been up there with us today. If they had survived..."

"They would have," Monica said firmly. "Like I said before, don't dwell on what might have been, Nunnally. Honour their memory and carry them forward with you."

"I will." Nunnally pushed back unshed tears and smiled.

/**/

Sarah Waters, dressed in a crisp new White Tower uniform, bowed as Nunnally entered the suite reserved for the Knight of Seven. She had never been one to rely on servants for everything short of wiping her nose, so Sarah combined several different roles for which she really needed one at least some of the time, primarily lady's maid and secretary. The latter, of late, required fielding Nunnally's fan mail, including the creepy stuff, which had prompted her to raise her salary last year.

"Congratulations, my lady."

"Thank you, Sarah. What's Euphemia decided to dress me in this time?" Her sister could always be counted on when she needed a new outfit for the rare formal occasions she attended - she had outgrown most of her old clothes since starting her military career - but Euphie's sense of taste could be eclectic to say the least.

"Come and see - it just arrived this morning."

To Nunnally's relief, the outfit turned out to be altogether more restrained than Euphie's last effort, which had made her look like a pink mermaid. She had seemingly asked the dressmaker to turn the basic design and colour scheme of the Knights of the Round uniform into a formal gown. The result was a relatively simple, sleeveless white silk dress with matching elbow-length gloves and the Rounds symbol embroidered on the black bodice in gold thread just like her uniform shirt. There was even a blue and gold shawl matching her cloak, which was particularly impressive given that her number had only been announced two days ago. Sarah tutted over how dry and out of condition her sun-bleached hair was, but did her considerable best to brush it to something resembling a smooth shine. While she worked, Nunnally asked after her younger brother, who was serving on a carrier in the Atlantic Fleet.

"Oh, Princess Euphemia left a note with your dress," Sarah said when they were finished. Nunnally took the proffered envelope, read the short missive inside, and nodded. Time for her and her sister to start putting their plans into motion.

/**/

When she arrived on the balcony, Gino (who, unfairly, had had no need to change) was leaning on the balustrade, making a show of tapping his feet and looking at his watch. Anya, next to him, had made no concessions to alleged adulthood, putting on a knee-length striped black and pink dress with matching stockings and leaving her hair tumbling artlessly down her back. Her camera clicked as Nunnally joined them, and Gino gasped in mock surprise.

"I'm blinded!" he hammed. "Who is this vision of loveliness and what has she done with the Knight of Seven? To arms, Anya, there's an intruder in the Tower! No, wait! Can it be that this stunning creature is our dear friend Nunnally?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes with an indulgent smile. "Flatterer. What shall we do with him, Anya?"

"I find ignoring him works best."

Gino turned back towards the spectacle of the city below them, flooded with golden evening sunshine. "This is the first time I've been back to Pendragon in two years. It brings back memories..."

Nunnally briefly wondered if it was beneath her knightly dignity to perch on the balustrade to bring herself up to Gino's eye level, decided it was not, and hopped up. The marble was cold on her knightly backside, but at least now she could look at him properly without having to crane her neck.

"I was thinking about where Hikari might be now. I hope she made it back to Japan...her family lived in Sendai, that's part of the Protectorate."

She nodded. "Things are better there now, thanks to Euphie. Perhaps we can find out when we're over there."

"Assuming she wants anything to do with me after the trouble I got her into..." Gino said wryly. "Anyway, I guess now I've stuck it to my old man about as much as I can. He and my mother didn't come to the ceremony, but I made sure they got an invitation. Very petty of me, I know."

Nunnally patted his shoulder, and Anya said nothing - family issues were something they all had in common.

"Well then, what say we go tear up the dance floor, ladies?" Gino offered Nunnally a hand to help her off her perch and put his free arm round a disinterested but unresisting Anya's shoulders.

"That sounds like a lot of work...we could go and find a Knightmare, I suppose."

Nunnally laughed. "I don't think that's what he meant, Anya."

/**/**/

**_Fukushima_ _Prefecture, Protector__ate of Japan (formerly Area 11)_**

The masked man hopped lightly ashore from his beached life-raft and cast a glance back at the burning, sinking Chinese destroyer he had just left. The shore defences watching the Kanmon Strait between Honshu and Federation-occupied Kyushu had been about to fire on it after it had ignored repeated warnings to turn back, only to be presented with the baffling spectacle of fires and explosions breaking out as the infighting onboard caused fuel and ammunition to be accidentally ignited. This had been followed by larger explosions as the turret guns were turned on the superstructure and finally the magazines detonated. The masked man laughed to himself as he wondered what cover stories both sides would concoct to explain the incident.

He turned towards the two men in the uniforms of the old Japanese army who were watching him warily from behind a rock outcrop. They were taken aback as his broadly smiling white mask looked them right in the eyes, despite their attempts at silence and stillness. He raised one gloved hand and waved at them.

"The curious owl hoots at midday," he said cheerfully in unaccented Japanese.

"Uh...hip, hip, hooray for the spinster's sister's daughter," the senior of the two replied. "You're the guy who's been causing all that trouble for the Chinese?"

"Not what you were expecting?" The masked man spread his arms, making his white cape flare and showing off his suit. It was cut so smartly and formally as to be positively archaic...except for the eye-watering purple and white diamond pattern. "Yes, I am he. I am Zero."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes:**

-This took a long time to get out partly because my original plans for Chapter 2 ballooned out into about three or four chapters' worth of stuff (well, that and writing fifty bajillion other things at the same time). Chapter 3 is already about half-done.

-I've made a few minor alterations to Chapter 1, moving the setting for Nunnally's prior military experience from Africa to South-East Asia. This was done because I found a list of Britannia's Areas on the Code Geass wikia which indicates that in canon, the Empire didn't conquer any of Africa until the period between R1 and R2. Since in this fic's version of events Britannia stopped its expansion after Charles' death (more detail on this and other stuff alluded to in this chapter will follow later, along with a timeline of events), its overseas possessions and protectorates in this fic's 'present day' are limited to the Pacific Rim.

-In fleshing out Dorothea and Monica aka Disposable Woman #1 and #2 (well, mainly fleshing out Monica at the moment), I've attempted among other things to account for why they were seemingly such mediocre Knightmare pilots in canon, by having their expertise lie in completely different areas. The tales of Monica's exploits are all based on real-world action movies; 3.141592654 pieces of kudos to anyone who can identify them all.

-The Knights of the Round having their own private tower and meeting room was inspired by George R.R. Martin's epic fantasy series _A Song of Ice And Fire_, as was the "who guards the Emperor?" formal opening to their meeting.

-Yes, Nonette has the Jonas Brothers as her personal squadron of boytoys. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

-Nunnally is around 5'5"-5'6" in this fic's "present day" (2019), making her around the same height as Nina, Kallen and C.C. In canon (based on extrapolations of official height charts and character design pages), she's about 5'1", about the same as Anya and Kaguya and shorter than everyone else in the cast except V.V. and the Tianzi. The difference is due to her being more physically active as a child and following a commensurate diet, as well as being slightly older than at the end of R2. (For comparison, Gino is about 6'7" and Bismarck is about 6'9".)

-Nunnally's uniform is based on a piece of fanart I found showing Nunnally and Anya in Rounds uniforms. I was originally going to make it something more practical, but then I remembered that this is Sparta, um, Code Geass, land of the ridiculous outfits.

-There are several hints as to who this alternate Zero is - if it isn't already obvious, it should become so fairly soon.


	3. Chapter 3&4 Preview

_**Disclaimer: **__Code Geass is the property of Sunrise, Bandai et al. No money is being made from this fanfic and it will be removed if the above parties so request. All your base are belong to us._

**Notes: **This is a preview of two flashback scenes that will appear in Chapters 3-4. As alluded to in the notes to Chapter 2, I'm working on those two more or less simultaneously, but I wanted to give my loyal readers something to tide them over, as I did with _Children of the Revolution_.

**Code Geass: Nunnally of Britannia  
Chapter 3-4 Preview**

_**24th December 2014**_

Nunnally stood before her father's desk, staring at the floor. He had said nothing since she entered the room, but the long silent minutes were a thousand times worse than any scolding or shouting.

"Nunnally," Bismarck said at last, making her jump. "I'm very disappointed in you."

"Yes, father," she mumbled, desperately willing herself not to cry.

"Look at me, please." Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. He looked no more angry or stern than usual, but it was hard to tell at the best of times. "First of all, tell me what happened."

"When we were in the garden waiting for the fireworks to start, I got separated from Euphie and was trying to find her when Carline started following me around. She called me names, and I ignored her, but then she said...things about you and Mother." She swallowed, not wanting to repeat Carline's lies.

"What did she say?"

Nunnally bit her lip. "She said you were...doing things behind the Emperor's back, and that she was a...a whore, and you were just as bad."

_"Heck, your mother w__as such a slut she was probably carrying on with lots of different men. Who knows who your father really is?__ And you know wh__at that makes you? A bastard."_

"I told her none of it was true and asked her to leave me alone, so she slapped me."

_"That's for contradicting me. Watch how you talk to your betters, bastard."_

"Then I hit her back." To be more exact, she had punched her in the face, swept her legs from under her, locked her arms behind her back, and knelt on top of her demanding that she take back what she had said. Carline had been screaming in pain and begging for mercy when Nunnally was dragged off her.

"You bruised three of Princess Carline's ribs, dislocated her shoulder, and almost broke her nose. Empress Sophia was extremely angry. She pointed out that the penalty for assaulting a prince or princess is still imprisonment without trial. However," Bismarck added as her mouth dropped open in horror, "as I explained to her, it would be ridiculous to bring the law into a squabble between children." Nunnally winced. "I told her you would make a full apology to Carline once she is recovered, and pointed out that she would have to take the matter to the Emperor if she wanted to pursue it further. Don't worry, she won't. If he even heard her case, he would say that Carline should learn not to get into fights she cannot win."

She opened her mouth to protest at the injustice of having to apologize for defending her parents from Carline's slander, then closed it again. Sometimes life wasn't fair, she reminded herself bleakly.

"Was anything that she said true?" he asked.

"Of course not!"

"Then why did you attack her?"

She blinked. "I couldn't let her say things like that!"

"But by reacting violently, you will have given the impression that there was some truth to her accusations."

Nunnally swallowed - she hadn't thought of that. "But she hit me first..."

"She slapped you to show that she could, or to bait you; I doubt she dreamed that you would or could hurt her so badly. Monica has told me many times that you are one of her best and most dedicated students. Do you think that Princess Carline, who has never been physically active in her life, had any chance of defending herself against you?"

"No..." Nunnally felt a spike of pride at hearing that the Knight of Twelve had praised her, but quashed it.

"Assaulting someone so much weaker than you is as bad as baiting and insulting someone of lower rank, as she did. If you had denied her accusations with dignity, people whose opinion is worth considering would have respected that. Resorting to violence makes you seem like an undisciplined barbarian, or a bully."

A sick sense of horror washed over her. "I'm sorry, father," she whispered brokenly. "Please - please don't send me away."

"Why would I do that?" Bismarck stared at her, then his eyes widened and some of his sternness melted away. "Ah. I am not the Emperor, Nunnally; I will not abandon you for making a mistake, even such a grave one. You are my daughter, and that will not change."

Nunnally let out the breath she had been holding in. "Thank you," she whispered. "I-it won't happen again. I promise."

"I blame myself, partly." He looked slightly abashed. "I knew that you had inherited Marianne's spirit and sense of justice; I should have expected that you would show some of her temper. I think we should spend some time working on helping you control it."

That cheered her slightly; both the comparison to her mother and the prospect of learning from him directly. They practiced together occasionally, mostly so that he could observe her progress, but this sounded different.

"Also, in addition to making your apology to Princess Carline, you can spend Christmas and New Year at home, alone. Your training will be cancelled except for your fitness regimen, until I can be sure that it is safe for you to resume. You can use the time to catch up on your schoolwork."

Nunnally nodded, too numb with relief to feel much anger at the punishment or dread at the prospect of weeks of deserved boredom. She realized later that that conversation was the first time she had heard him even come close to voicing any kind of criticism of Emperor Charles.

/**/

_**2nd March 2018**_

"How did you come to join the military, Lord Weinberg, miladies? If you don't mind my asking," Amelia Cyrus added hastily, setting down her tray beside Ephraim at Zero Squadron's table.

"Didn't I say you should all just call me Gino, Amelia? I can't stand it when pretty girls call me 'Lord Weinberg', it makes me feel old," Gino admonished, making the commoner-born brunette blush. "I'm sure Anya and Nunnally would rather not be burdened by titles as well. Right?" Nunnally nodded, and Anya gave an affirmative grunt without looking up from updating her blog.

"Anyway, to answer your entirely polite and reasonable question, I ran away from home. I'm the family shame, the one who picked the distasteful profession." Gino's cheerful smile wavered not a millimetre. "Surprised?"

"Uh...yes," Amelia said, looking very uncomfortable. "I thought that..."

"All nobles dreamed of having upright warrior sons ranging around the frontiers of the Empire smiting heathens?"

"Well, yes."

"You must understand, Amelia, that there are two types of aristocrat in Britannia. There are the red-meat-eating, fire-breathing, honour-before-lunch types raised on cold showers and hard knocks, who consider ranging, smiting, et cetera the finest pursuit on earth. They usually, but not always, acquired their titles through some glorious feat of arms, or their ancestors no more than a few generations back did. Then there are the sort for whom the finest pursuit on earth is making money from picking up the pieces left by the first lot, or from the labour of smitten heathens. My darling relatives belong to the latter group. Nunnally here-" he laid his hand on her head, which made her reconsider not calling him out on his blatant simplification - "hails most decidedly from the former."

"...right." Amelia's eyes had gone very wide.

"As for why I decided to buck the trend, well, I'd like to claim that I chose to dedicate my life to the cause of justice, but the truth is more prosaic. There was a lady involved."

This failed to elicit surprise from his audience.

"It happened when I was fourteen. I'm an only child, and my parents were away almost constantly, leaving me alone in the family mansion with only tutors - even the top boarding schools weren't good enough for them - and servants for company. One of the maids who cleaned my room was a very pretty Japanese - Eleven as they were known then - girl named Hikari. She was only a few years older than me. I didn't know much about girls - much about anything, really - but I thought she was the most wonderful creature on Earth. I spent weeks mooning over her and writing really bad poetry. Eventually I plucked up the courage to tell her how I felt."

"What happened?" Ephraim asked, then looked slightly embarrassed at his own enthusiasm.

"She didn't know what to say, poor girl - she must have been terrified of what might happen if she did the wrong thing. Would I get her dismissed if she didn't do what I wanted, or would she get into worse trouble if she got into a relationship with a Britannian? Not that I thought about any of that at the time, of course. I was just glad she didn't laugh and tell me I was a silly little boy. Eventually I managed to persuade her of my sincerity, or at least my harmlessness. We became friends, a little bit more...well, suffice to say that it was the happiest time of my life."

"That's wonderful!" a moist-eyed Amelia exclaimed. Nunnally bit her lip, sensing that this story would not have a happy ending. Gino confirmed her suspicions when he stared down at the table, his face sombre for the first time that Nunnally could recall outside of battle.

"We were found out eventually, of course. One of the other servants probably told my father. Believe it or not, he was actually pleased...until I stupidly told him I was in love with her, and he figured out I hadn't slept with her. Then he flew into a rage and told me she was a filthy Number, only fit for using up for a bit of fun and then tossing aside. That lecture was probably the longest conversation we ever had, now that I think about it. Anyway, he had Hikari thrown out on the street with only the clothes on her back...he wouldn't even let me say goodbye to her. I found out later that he had two of the footmen beat her up along the way to 'teach her a lesson'. I never saw her again."

"I'm sorry, L- Gino. That's terrible." Stricken, Amelia reached across the table touched Gino's hand comfortingly.

Gino shrugged. "So after that, I couldn't get out from under his thumb fast enough. Joining the army at sixteen was the quickest escape route, and had the added value of being about the last thing my father would have wanted. Luckily, I turned out to be quite good at the whole heathen-smiting business." He turned to Nunnally, his smile reappearing. "I don't suppose you followed quite such a twisting path here. No doubt Lord Bismarck had an assault course in the back garden and hired contract killers to jump you every morning before breakfast to keep you sharp."

Nunnally shook her head with a smile. "Not exactly. I only learned to fight because I asked to, and he was very clear that I should only go into the military if I wanted to, not to make him happy. Which probably just made me want to follow his example even more. Oh, and he doesn't have an assault course in the back garden, it would spoil the view. I usually used the one at the Knight of Twelve's house," she added, poker-faced, making Gino slap himself in the face theatrically.

"I guess being the daughter of the Knight of One adds a whole new meaning to the phrase 'my dad can beat up your dad'," Ephraim said wryly.

She laughed. "I suppose so. What about you two?" She guessed that Anya wasn't about to volunteer anything about herself.

"Well...I'm kind of in the same boat as you, Lord Gino," Ephraim said. Gino held up a finger. "Sorry, Gino."

"Is he a pretty girl?" Anya examined Ephraim closely, making him shift uncomfortably and Gino give her an exasperated look.

"Uh...anyway, my dad was the basketball coach at my school, and he wanted me to play professionally. I was OK with that, but then I met this girl on holiday..." (Amelia perked up, while Anya rolled her eyes and went back to her blog.) "She transferred to my school the next term, which was a pretty crazy coincidence really, and things went really well…we were going to try out for the school musical together. But then my so-called friends decided I was spending too much time with her instead of training with the team and conspired to break us up. My dad even got involved - he got her mother fired from her job so that they had to move again, if you can believe it. When I found out, he said it was for my own good, to avoid jeopardizing my future career. I joined up the next day."

"You poor fellow. I didn't realize basketball was such serious business among the commoners," Gino said, shaking his head. "Is that usual?"

"Uh…I don't know really, but it was where I lived." Ephraim thankfully didn't look offended at being described as a commoner. "I still get stomach cramps when I hear the phrase 'keep your head in the game'." He shuddered.

"So is anyone here for reasons unrelated to their parents?" Gino asked of no-one in particular.

"Um...my dad supported me joining the military, but he didn't encourage me either," Amelia said. "When I was younger, I actually wanted to be a singer like him..."

"Really? Wow!" Ephraim interrupted. "What kind of...sorry."

"But I decided I didn't really like the idea of the showbiz lifestyle, and I wanted to, you know, do something important, help people and stuff."

"I don't have a family," Anya put in suddenly, making everyone look at her. She continued tapping the keys of her phone.

/**/**/

**Notes:**

-The story about Gino falling for a Japanese maid is based on a snippet of character background that never made it into the series. (Gino clearly digs the Asian ladies, given that he also chased Kallen and is photographed with Empress Tianzi in the epilogue.)

-Yes, _High School Musical_ had a less than happy ending in this 'verse. Woe. (For anyone who's interested, Alternate Gabriella became a left-wing revolutionary and posed nude on BritanniaNet to raise funds for the cause. Alternate Troy's dad was divorced by his wife for driving their son away and became an alcoholic. The basketball team came last in every tournament for the next few years. Alternate Sharpay and Alternate Ryan both married into the nobility and lived miserably but richly ever after.)


End file.
